Always Remember
by Damsel O'Kelly
Summary: Her first friend was a newsie, so was her first love. Story of Rememberance Jameson.
1. Chapter 1

Memories  
by Damsel

* * *

This is my story. I am not famous, I am not rich, and I am not important. But this is my story, and I want to tell it. Not so much for you, but for me.

Let's just call it a way to remember.

My name is Rememberance Jameson, but most people just call me Mem. You'd think with a name like that, I wouldn't have to have a nickname. But my friends, and now family, thought I did. And I was given one; Liberty. But we can't tell a story starting with the end, so let's go back. Back to when I was given a reason to remember.

* * *

At just six years of age, I was a very precocious child. I was fairly bright, and my first memories of life are quite vivid. I remember a dark velvet room with soft pillows, and hushed voices in the hall. And I remember my grandmother and the soft sounds of her crying.

One thing I don't remember much of is my parents. I recognize their faces and I've been told how they loved me. But I've lost most of my memories of them. I've lost the smell of my father's after shave, and the sound of my mother's voice as she sang me to sleep at night.

But one thing I'll never forget is how I felt the day my grandmother cried, and the realization that I would never see my parents again.

* * *

My grandmother lived in England, and she shared her home with my family during the short summer months. When my parents died, my grandmother couldn't bear to live in the house that was so alive with their spirits. So we packed our things, and left for a new house in America. My grandmother was now in charge of me and our family home, which she planned on selling. She was also keen to see a new addition to the New York harbor: the statue of liberty. 


	2. The dock

Busy. That's the only word that could describe it. New York City was the busiest place my little eyes had ever seen. I gazed in wide-eyed wonder as my grandmother led me off the ship, and onto the wooden docks. "Rememberance Jameson! Would you PLEASE keep your head out of the clouds and keep up!"

I blinked and scurried to hold her hand. "Sorry Granny." I quickly glanced at the only possession I had kept from England; a picture of my mother and father. I stuck it in my pocket, and clutched my jacket tight. Only hours earlier, my grandmother had put the picture in a small frame for me so it wouldn't blow away or get wrinkled.

Strands of my barely brown hair blew in my face, and I stopped to readjust the ribbon on my head. "Rememberance! Button up your jacket! You're going to catch cold!"

Fingers fumbled for the buttons on my blue coat. I gasped as one tiny black button fell to the ground. My knees fell to the ground as I searched for my precious button. Hard heeled shoes barely missed my small hands, but I was going to find that button.

"Ah ha!" I had found it. Pushing my way through the legs of dozens of strangers, I finally caught the shiny button in my hand. Feeling rather proud, I held it up to show my grandmother.

"Gra-" I cut myself off, realizing I didn't know where my grandmother was. So many faces, but not one I recognized. Frightened, I called her name, frantically searching the faces for one I knew. I yelped and jumped as a hand grabbed my shoulder. A little panicked, and rightly so, I kicked my little heels behind me blindly, hoping to hit the fiend that had captured me. Hearing a sound of pain, I smiled, satisfied. Turning to face the captor, I was surprised to see a boy not much older than myself.

A boy with dark hair and darker eyes rubbed his shin and frowned at her, "Geez kid. I was jist tryin' to help ya."

I eyed him suspiciously, still not sure what to think. "How can you help me?"

"Yer lookin' fer da old lady, ain't ya?" After a hesitant nod from me, he continued and pointed across the dock. "I saw 'er go ovah dat way."

I smiled and started to thank the boy, but stopped short. Raising a questioning eyebrow, I asked, "How did you know who I was with?"

With a roll of his eyes, the boy answered, "Look kid. I'se a newsie, I sell papes." He held up a stack of newspapers, shaking them slightly. "I had da bright idea to try ta sell at da docks today."

He paused, "Din't occur to me dat most a dese people don't speak English, let alone read it. Anyway, I hoid dat lady yell at ya- in English. So I thought I'd try to sell to 'er."

I shrugged, "Oh. Well then, sorry for kicking you." He nodded. "Thanks for finding my granny."

Remembering my manners, I held out my hand. "I'm Rememberance Jameson. Nice to meet you."

The boy spit in to his right palm and pushed it towards me. "I'se Racetrack."

Scrunching my face in disgust, I put my hand back down at my side. Racetrack looked at his palm for a second, and wiped it on his trousers. "Look, whatevah. Let's jist go find her grandma."


	3. The races

A year quickly went by, and it didn't take long to adjust to life with my grandmother. She managed to sell my parents house for a very reasonable price, and buy a new house in a part of New York called Manhattan. The house was big for only two occupants, but we filled it well. Racetrack and I stayed friends after the day he brought me to my grandmother. She liked him right away. Months passed, and Racetrack frequented our house more often. He and my grandmother soon found they had a common interest- a fascinating place called Sheepshead Races.

* * *

"Alright children, stay close to me. This is no place to get lost." I giggled, holding tightly to my granny's hand. Racetrack was holding my other hand- I was not to be trusted in crowds any longer. The three of us found decent seats towards the front of the stadium, eager for the races to start. I clapped excitedly.

"Ooo how I love this! Let's go Buster!" I screamed, calling the name of my favorite horse. Racetrack glanced towards the entrance, and I plopped down beside him. "What are you looking for?"

"Me bruddah" He looked down at me, "Nosy", and stuck out his tongue. Granny smiled. A few minutes later I received an elbow in the side as racetrack pointed. "Dere 'e is!"

A tall dark-haired semi-scrawny boy sauntered through the entrance, followed by a small band of teenagers. Race jumped up and waved, catching the boys' attention. He waved back, and led his group our way.

"Heya Race." he said, rubbing his hand over Racetrack's head. Race beamed up at his older brother, and turned to my grandmother and me.

"Dis is me friend, Mem and 'er grandma, Miss Jameson." The boy tipped his hat to us and shook my grandmother's hand politely.

She grinned and asked, "So you're our Racetrack's big brother, eh?"

"Dat's right, ma'am. I'se Shootah. And dese is some o' da newsies dat live wit us," he turned to his friends, "Umm…dis is Heart, and Sidewind, and dis heah is Soldiah." Granny greeted each of them, and invited them to sit with us, which they did gratefully.

Shooter sat down behind Race, patting the space beside him. A petite blonde, introduced as Heart filled the spot, and leaned towards Shooter affectionately. Racetrack greeted a muscular boy with auburn hair, the tallest of the group, as he slapped Race on the back and sat beside him.

The girl with long black hair and equally dark eyes squeezed in between Race and I. Crossing her legs with a grace I'd only seen in my grandmother, she straightened her back and patted my leg with her right hand, "Mem, right?"

I nodded.

Copying the way she tossed her left leg over her right, I replied, "Soldier, right?"

Her dark eyes smiled down at me and chuckled softly, "Right."

* * *

Buster didn't win that day, but I didn't mind. I had found something better than a racehorse: I had found friends. Up until that day, Granny and Racetrack were the only two people I ever saw. And now I was being shown in to a whole different world.

"So Mem, hows about ya come to da lodgin' house sometime, and meet da rest a da gang?" Shooter asked as he took a bite of my grandmothers' lasagna. Shooter wiped some stray sauce from his lip and added, "If dat's alright wit you, Miss Jameson."

Dinners at our house had become an almost daily routine. Although some new kids showed up once in a while, the group mainly contained the group from the races, nearly filling our large rectangular dinner table. My grandmother loved to have the house filled with laughter, and with friends. She also loved to cook, and with only myself to look after, she quickly welcomed the excuse to make bigger meals.

Granny set her fork down on her napkin and settled back in her chair. I looked at her, wide-eyed and hopeful, mouthing 'please, please, please.' She cleared her throat, "Well, young man, I've known you to be fairly responsible." A glance at me coaxed a grin and she continued, "So I suppose Rememberance can make an appearance at your lodging house. But", she added, raising her hand, "Don't let me down."

Trying to contain my joy, I sat on my hands, squirming gleefully. Soldier, seated next to me, laughed aloud. "Alright Mem, you'se comin' wit us."


	4. The lodging house

Shooter held my hand on part of the long walk to the lodging house. Then I said I was tired of walking, and Sidewind carried me the rest of the way. I saw a whole different part of the city from my perch atop my new friends' shoulders.

The lengthy walk ended in front of a slightly scraggy-looking wooden building.

"Well, heah we are." Soldier announced, taking the few steps up to the door of the Newsboys Lodging House. Sidewind leaned down, allowing me to climb down from his shoulders somewhat gracefully.

Shooter caught my hand again and walked me through the door. Inside, the room buzzed with activity. There were kids everywhere: lounging against the wall, climbing the stairs at the back of the room, playing games around a wooden table. I cried out with delight, excited by the new mass of people. Our small group of arrivals filtered in to the room, leaving me with Racetrack and his brother.

"I'll show 'er around, Shootah." offered Racetrack, throwing his arm over my shoulder. A nod from his brother gave Race the go. "Well, Mem. You'se got a lot a people ta meet." He said, sweeping his arm around the room.

I squealed again, and a group leaning against the nearby wall looked up. "Race! Hows it rollin kid?" a boy asked, wiping his nose on a red handkerchief.

Race dropped his arm and grinned, "Good. It's good. I got a friend heah, 'er name's-"

"Rememberance." I interrupted, shrugging, "Or Mem."

The boy put the hankie back in his pocket and extended his hand to me. "Hey dere. I'se Hank." He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Short for Handkerchief, on account a I'se always wipin' me nose on one…" he mirrored my shrug, and grinned goofily.

A short brunette leaned around Hank, offering a small wave, "Bonjour Mem, my name is Jolie."

The girl's French accent surprised me. From the floor, a voice hidden by Hank's legs chirped a hello. Another brunette poked her head out, brown eyes sparkling. "I go by Chantah. Nice ta meet ya."

After a few minutes get-to-know-you conversation, Race and I moved on to the next cluster of newsies. Three small boys were huddled around a game of jacks, whispering excitedly. The smallest of the three, a dark-eyed boy with a head full of dark curls was the first to spot us. He stood quickly and rushed to Race's side, the other two quickly following suit. "Racey boy, wheah ya been?" the boy demanded.

"Ah come on Mush, ya know 'xactly where I'se been." Race answered.

The mass of curls continued, "So wha'd ya bring us?"

A sigh sent Race digging in his pockets. "Heah ya go, ya bums." He joked, handing each of the boys one of my grandmothers biscuits.

I dropped my mouth open in mock awe, "Racetrack! How dare you steal from Granny!" An eye roll was all I got in reply.

The curls turned to me, "Who are you?" he inquired, not impolite.

"Mem." I said shortly. I stuck out my hand for a shake, but the boy was too busy eating to notice. Feeling slightly foolish, I lowered my hand. "What's your name?"

"I guess you can call me Mush. Since dey all do." The curls replied, gesturing to his friends and grinning.

"What about you two?" I went on.

The boys next to Mush glanced up from their biscuits, then at each other. The boy closest to me swallowed quickly, "I'se Jack Kelly." He tossed his sandy blond hair to the side dramatically.

The last boy scratched his dark hair absent-mindedly, waiting for Jack to finish his introductions. I turned his way, and he began, "My name's Skittery. Nice ta meet ya." I nodded, echoing the sentiment.

Mush waggled his thumb my way, looking at Race, "Is she a newbie?"

"Nah," Race replied, "Dis is da goil wit da grandma."

"Ahhh," the three said in unison. I chuckled softly.

Racetrack crossed to the boys and punched Skittery on the shoulder softly. "Dese guys are my best friends in da entire woild."

Mush placed his hand on Racetracks head, "Dat's right, Mem. Best friends fer life."

Skittery stuck his hands in the pockets of his brown trousers, rocking gently on to the balls of his feet. After a moment of awkward silence, he looked back at their abandoned games. He turned back, "Jacks, anyone?"


	5. The party

I opened the door as quietly as I could, hoping to sneak in unnoticed.

"Rememberance Jameson!"

No such luck.

"Just what makes you think you can stay out this late? And alone! What happened to the boys? Don't they have-"

My grandmother stopped as Shooter walked in behind me. "Oh," she said, blushing slightly. "My apologies Shooter, I should've known better."

"No worries, ma'am. I'd be worried too, if I had dis kid ta look aftah." Shooter replied, nudging my leg with his toe.

I stuck my lip out in a false pout. A violent cough from my grandmother struck down my silly mood. "Are you alright Granny?" I said, worried. Crossing the room, I knelt beside her chair, Shooter right behind me.

She brought a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, "Of course I'm alright, dear. Just a little cold, that's all."

"Well here, we got this for you." I presented her with a yellow tulip, her favorite flower.

"Why, Rememberance, that's very sweet. Thank you." She leaned over slowly and kissed my forehead, "You just go on to bed now." She swallowed hard, and I stood. "Go on, go." A swat on my bottom sent me up the stairs, leaving my grandmother and Shooter alone. I could hear their hushed whispering, but no amount of straining on my part made their conversation audible.

* * *

Granny's coughing fits came more frequently over the following months, but after a while, they dwindled, and seemed to go away. I spent more and more time with the newsies. Shooter and Race became just like brothers to me, and Soldier was not only like a sister, but a role model as well. With so many good things going on, grandmother's cough all but disappeared from my mind.

* * *

"Happy birthday!"

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, making sure to blow out each of the ten candles on my raspberry birthday cake. My grandmother clapped happily, and reached her hands behind her back. She brought out a small brown package, and held it in her lap. Friends, scattered around the room, scooted in for a better view. I readily tore in to the package, tearing the paper easily to reveal a small dark blue box. "Granny…"

Gingerly, I opened the box. It held a silver locket. On the front, the locket said, 'Mem.' I gasped, "It's beautiful!"

"Turn it over, love." My grandmother coaxed.

On the back, engraved in tiny letters, was engraved, 'Always Remember.' I picked the locket up carefully, and unclasped it. Inside there were two pictures; one of my grandmother, and one of myself. "Granny it's wonderful, thank you so much!" I said, holding it to my chest.

Granny leaned over and gave me a hug. "You are so welcome, dear."

* * *

That night, after all our friends had gone, my grandmother and I sat down together. We huddled together on our velvet couch, her arm around my shoulder. She hummed softly, and I looked again at the locket I now wore around my neck. I read the inscription again, 'Always Remember.'

"Granny," I started, "This engraving, it's beautiful, but…" I squirmed a little under her arm, "remember what?"

She chuckled softly and squeezed my shoulder lightly. "Always remember me, love. And the wonderful times we've spent together."

"But Granny," I said, craning my neck to look up at her, "We'll have plenty more good times."

Her eyes shone down on me sadly and she sighed, resting her cheek on my head, "Of course we will, love. Of course we will."


End file.
